


Look At Yourself

by sm0ke



Series: If You Could Just Apply Yourself [2]
Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blood, Blood Kink, Blood Play, Blood and Injury, Bottom Jesse Pinkman, Bruises, Fight Sex, Fighting, First Time, First Time Sex, First time anal, Injury, Jealous Walter White, Light BDSM, Light Masochism, M/M, Masochism, Mild Blood, Mirror Sex, One Shot, POV Jesse, POV Jesse Pinkman, Pain, Pain Kink, Painful Sex, Painplay, Porn, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Raw - Freeform, Sadism, Smut, Violent Sex, Walter White Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25109212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sm0ke/pseuds/sm0ke
Summary: CW: there is pain and violence in this but i wouldn’t describe it as “graphic” so that’s why i didn’t use that content warning. let me know if this needs to be changed.Some Plot Spoilers  - based on the episode Bug (S04 E09)Walter and Jesse are fighting and it escalates terribly out of their control in a way that both of them probably should have predicted.
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman & Walter White, Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Series: If You Could Just Apply Yourself [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773553
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85





	Look At Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> A Lot has changed since my first work about these two. i don’t know how i feel about this one because i came up with the idea before i finished the series and i hated jesse a bit. the love i got on part 1 is overwhelming and lots of people seemed excited about a part 2. this one is obviously a lot less vanilla than the first one.

His mouth tasted of metal when he called Mr White. It was a moment of desperation, sure, because he was terrified of what was going to happen to him if he went to Mexico and at this point Mr White was the only person he could trust. His mind flitted to Saul for a moment. Mr White was the only person he could trust _for free._

The whole time Jesse had been talking, Mr White hadn’t interrupted him once. In hindsight he should have known something was wrong - considering how much Mr White loved to interrupt him - but he didn’t pick up on it just yet.

He’d told Mr White everything about Gus and his deal with the cartel to give away _their_ formula over some drug war or some shit. He was a little hazy on those details in particular because he was too busy freaking the fuck out by then. He kind of realised why Mr White interrupted him so much because he felt like he’d said, like, a bunch of stupid shit and Mr White still hadn’t said anything.

He practically had to torture it out of the guy but eventually, Mr White started asking him about whether he’d seen Fring, which really didn’t make any sense to Jesse after everything he’d just told him, but he told him no, like always, because it was easier to lie about it than to deal with Mr White’s anger. Not that one _particular_ form of stress relief was that unappealing, but more that after the last time his chin was bruised and so was his back - both of which were really hard to explain away. This obsession with Fring must have come from somewhere. It was like he was trying to punish Jesse for talking to the dude. All the questions were becoming incessant and almost too specific. How could Mr White possibly have known he was at Fring’s house last night?

Before he could even try to figure that out, Mr White was pushing him around, grabbing the cigarette packet from his jacket pocket. He checked for the ricin cigarette and saw that it was still there. That’s when it started to click into place. Mr White had given him the ricin a couple days after they’d talked about the Gus Fring situation the first time, which had ended with Jesse coming with his face pressed into his coffee table. They hadn’t so much as shaken hands since then. Not that that was something either of them regularly did, but they were both pretty averse to any touching now, almost like they couldn’t control themselves if they did. Jesse couldn’t bring himself to kill Fring. He just couldn’t. But Mr White wanted him dead with every cell in his body and Jesse just knew it. It was so much deeper than the fear that Gus would kill Mr White - it was personal somehow.

“Two hours and eighteen minutes and you couldn’t figure out a way to give it to him?” He asked, but it wasn’t so much of a question as it was an accusation.  
”He never left the room-“ Jesse tried to argue.  
”You lying little shit,” He spat. Jesse walked away from him, trying not to do anything stupid but Mr White kept talking.  
”You had one thing to do. One thing. That is the only thing, I might add, that would save our lives and you were right there - you were in his house,” He was getting progressively more furious and Jesse had to swallow because his throat felt so tight, “and you didn’t have the guts to do it,”  
Jesse turned to face him again, the realisation finally hitting him, ”Two hours and eighteen minutes?”  
“You never had any intention of killing him, did you?” Mr White pressed, ignoring Jesse.  
”How did you know I was at his house last night?” They were both getting nowhere - asking questions they already knew the answers to but hoping there could be some other explanation. ”Were you following me?” Surely not, surely-  
He pulled something out of his pocket. This. This is how I knew.”  
It took Jesse a moment to realise what it was. ”You bugged my car?” He had to know how fucked up that was - that’s some fucked up cop shit.  
”7:10-9:28p.m.” He wasn’t listening. Neither of them were. They were both arguing a case with no defendant. “Two hours and eighteen minutes but you had no intentions, did you? Not the slightest intention,”  
”Everything that I have done for you,” He muttered, trying so hard to keep his tone level that it was almost too quiet, “You put a bug on my car?” he exploded.  
”I’m sorry after everything you’ve done for me? What you’ve done for me?” He stepped towards him and Jesse stepped back instinctively, “You’ve killed me, is what you’ve done. You’ve signed my death warrant.”  
Jesse hadn’t realised Mr White had been shouting until his voice went quiet again “Now you want advice? I’ll give you advice. Go to Mexico and screw up like I know you will and wind up in a barrel somewhere-“

And that was it, Jesse couldn’t take it anymore, whatever the hell Mr White’s problem was with Fring, it was not his fucking fault. So he smacked those stupid fucking glasses right off his stupid fucking face.

He didn’t know what he’d expected really, but when Mr White retaliated it was a shock to him. They collided, hands grabbing at one another’s shoulders, but Jesse had underestimated how strong Mr White was and he was thrown against the wall. (Momentarily it occurred to him to make an against the wall joke but he decided it was _not_ the best idea right about now). Before he could even think, he was on the ground, the wind being knocked the fuck out of him. The second he tried to get back up there was a foot jamming into his ribcage and Mr White was on top of him in an instant. They clawed at each other’s faces, grabbing onto any part that they could. For a moment, Mr White let up and it was just long enough for Jesse to throw him off, scrambling to his feet before being rammed against the window, hearing the blinds crunch against his back, digging into the bruising across his shoulder blades. The pressure on his shoulders was so forceful that his knees started to buckle. He slid down the wall into a crouch but he took advantage of his position, throwing a punch with his left. Mr White stumbled back, allowing Jesse to grab the lamp and swing it at his fucking head. Somehow the guy didn’t even startle, he just ducked right under it. Either Jesse was weaker than he thought or Mr White had some, like, secret ninja training. Mr White was at least slow enough for Jesse to hit him in the stomach and push him to the ground, straddling him and hitting him once. Mr White flipped them easily and got Jesse a couple of times as he struggled to throw him off. With an enormous amount of effort, Jesse pushed him over and he hit the ground next to him with a dull thud.

They both lay there panting for long enough that Jesse could somewhat gather his thoughts. His thoughts consisted entirely of “what the fuck?” but he appreciated the breather. He started to drag himself off the floor as Mr White used the coffee table to hoist himself up. Trying to think on his feet (or on his stomach), Jesse made a grab for his ankle and pulled him down. He found himself straddling Mr White once again and drew back his fist to punch him. Mr White caught his wrist just before it made contact with his cheekbone and held it tight. He gripped the other wrist in his other hand, squeezing with such force that Jesse thought they might snap under the pressure. He twisted to get free but he got absolutely nowhere, squirming helplessly on top of him.

When they made eye contact it wasn’t the same kind of heat burning through the both of them as before and Jesse knew it. Their mouths collided with such a bruising force that immediately Jesse felt the sting in his lip where it was split open. The pain rippled through his body, stabbing at the bruise that was blooming over his ribcage and scraping over his knuckles, where the skin was turning from pinkish to purple. He was terrified to make one wrong move, not wanting to risk starting another fight. Instinctively, his hips rolled over Mr White’s and, when he wasn’t reprimanded, he did it again, gasping into the lack of space between them.

This time it was less erratic. He was slower, trying to feel as much as he could through their clothes. He groaned a little and Mr White caught his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down. Hard. Jesse yelped and immediately felt embarrassed, pulling back as the taste of metal seeped into his mouth, where the cut on his lip had started to bleed openly. Mr White let go of his left wrist, trailing his thumb over the bleeding lip instead. Jesse trembled but he didn’t dare move. He watched as Mr White inspected the bright red liquid on the tip of his thumb and licked it off, tasting it. Jesse’s tongue darted out to the cut on his lip instinctively, tasting the blood himself.

Using one elbow on the ground and the other to hook around Jesse’s waist, Mr White sat up so that Jesse was pretty much sitting in his lap. Surprisingly gently, he cradled Jesse’s face, tilting it to inspect the damage he’d done and tutting softly. “Do you understand now?” He asked.  
“Yes,” Jesse lied.  
“You understand why you have to respect me and do what I say?”  
“Yes,” He lied again. He didn’t understand jack shit he just liked where this was going.

Mr White slapped him across the face, hard. Jesse inhaled sharply, averting his gaze. “Don’t lie to me again,” Jesse nodded. “Good,” Mr White said, cupping the side of his face once more as if nothing had happened. Jesse didn’t turn to look at him. God, he was such a dick. And somehow Jesse still needed him more than anything. And even more surprisingly, he was still hard. Mr White’s hand dropped back down to the floor, his wedding ring striking against the wood. Jesse hadn’t even considered that this could affect anyone except the two of them and really didn’t want to think about it right then.

“Do you want me to teach you?” Mr White asked him. Jesse nodded but he was wary. “Good, come with me,”

Jesse had no idea why Mr White had taken him to the bathroom. He might have vaguely thought about cleaning it if he’d thought they’d be in here but when he’d called Mr White he really wasn’t thinking about the towels on his bathroom floor and the toothpaste on the mirror. Jesse was gripping the edge of the sink, looking down at the injured knuckles on his right hand.  
“Look in the mirror,” Mr White instructed.  
Jesse glanced up. It was one of those big mirrors just right above the sink. He looked at Mr White’s reflection as Mr White looked at him, almost like he was inspecting him for damages - damages Mr White had caused, by the way.  
“Not at me, at yourself,” Jesse examined the bright red blooming across his cheek and jaw and immediately averted his gaze again.  
“What do you see?” Jesse wasn’t sure if he was actually supposed to answer or not. After a painfully long silence he managed  
“Uhhh?”  
“It’s a genuine question,”  
“Umm? Myself?”  
“Yes, and what do you look like?”  
Jesse didn’t understand what was up with the questions and he was going to start complaining but he felt a pair of cold hands sliding under his shirt and he decided to play along.  
“Kinda… beat up?”  
“That’s good,” He didn’t know why that felt so good to hear or why it made the muscles in his abdomen clench.  
“And who did that to you?” Mr White was pulling Jesse’s shirt over his head, exposing the angry red spreading across his ribcage.  
“You did,”  
“Why?”  
And Jesse didn’t really have an answer. They had been fighting and Mr White overpowered him, right? But that didn’t seem like the answer he was looking for. At first it was just a subtle stabbing pain but as Mr White dug his fingers further into the bruising on Jesse’s ribs it became harsher and harsher until his ears were ringing.  
“I don’t know,” he gasped, trying not to make any noise that showed he was in pain.  
“Yes, you do.” And the grip on his side tightened to the point where Jesse was panting unsteadily.  
“I don’t,” he snapped.  
“You do,” Mr White insisted, growing impatient and raising his voice,  
  
“Look in the mirror,” Jesse stared straight into his own eyes in the mirror. He looked like shit. He was all bruised up and his whole body was tensed with the pain.

Somewhere behind the white hot agony ripping through his chest, he thought of something. “I disrespected you,”

Immediately the pain let up and he started breathing in huge gulps of air. He was still looking himself in the eye. He was afraid not to.  
“Good, well done”  
And he felt the muscles in his abdomen spasm again. He shouldn’t feel that way about such a simple comment but he did. Mr White was trailing his fingertips so gently over the mark on his side as if he wasn’t the one digging his fingers into it seconds ago - and as if he wasn’t the one who caused it in the first place. The soothing touch made its way down Jesse’s sides and past his hips to the waistband of his jeans where they stayed.

“What should I do with you?” But it was a question he was asking himself, more than one he was asking Jesse. _Fuck me_ is what Jesse answered in his head. His thumbs slipped below his belt line, but still he didn’t make a move to undress him or even to unbutton his pants. Jesse was never one for patience but clearly Mr White was and the anticipation was almost as painful as having the shit beaten out of him. In his frustration, Jesse bit down on his bottom lip and instantly regretted it as it split open once again, blood gathering and then splattering against the porcelain. In the mirror, he could see Mr White’s face, that same expression he made when he was thinking plastered all over it.

“You understand why I have to treat you this way, don’t you?” Mr White asked him, finally _finally_ undoing Jesse’s jeans and sliding them down to where he could kick them off. In just his underwear, Jesse could see just how much he looked like shit. All beat up and with a raging hard on. But there was something in the way Mr White was looking at him that looked like maybe he didn’t think Jesse looked like shit at all. Jesse nodded. With the same light touch that had scraped over his ribs before, Mr White trailed his fingertips over the injuries on Jesse’s body, connecting them like a dot-to-dot, until his hands reached Jesse’s face. He jerked Jesse’s chin to the side kissing him harshly, tonguing at the cut on his lip to coax out more blood. Mr White’s thumb dug into the bruising on his jaw and his neck was twisted so everything about it hurt like hell but that only made him want it more. And he hated himself for it. He hated the way Mr White could just hurt him more and more and make him feel so good. And Jesse would let Mr White hurt him for as long as he wanted just so that he could feel good again. At that point Jesse noticed that Mr White was not only pressed right against his back but the guy was fucking hard.

When Mr White pulled down his underwear, it kind of clung to the sweat on his legs. He hadn’t realised he’d been sweating but he was nervous as all fuck so it made sense.

Jesse had started watching Mr White again, like, how could he not? How could anyone not be transfixed by him? Jesse couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, ever. Mr White was looking at his body in a way that Jesse sincerely hoped meant sex and when his hands trailed down to his ass he only got more optimistic. The pop of the lube cap sounded behind him and he braced himself for the cold of it. Jesse didn’t wonder when anyone had stopped for lube or even care. Mr White chose that moment to glance up from what he was doing, raising his eyebrows at Jesse.

“Look,” he reminded him. It was strangely gentle, much more gentle than anything he’d said before now. And Jesse did. He watched his own face twist as one finger slid in, the discomfort reflected directly in front of him. When it moved inside of him, his mouth dropped open into a gasp and it took all of his self control not to look down. It felt wrong, almost, seeing himself this way. Like he wasn’t supposed to. It was like sneaking a look at a porn magazine that his dad didn’t hide very well in his nightstand. His eyebrows knitted together as the second finger slid in and Jesse started to feel the stretch and burn. If they were going to have sex - and Jesse really fucking hoped they were - he had no idea how he could be stretched more than this.

“Are you looking?” Mr White asked him. At first Jesse nodded, before realising Mr White wasn’t really looking at him, so he said out loud,  
“Yeah,”  
“Why do you have those bruises?” Mr White’s loaded-ass questions were hard enough to answer, let alone while he was getting fingered.  
“I umm- I uhh-,“ Jesse stammered out, trying not to focus on the burning and stretching and _touching_ but that just made him think about it more.  
“Go on,” and it was almost compassionate.  
“I uhh- I disrespected you,” He forced out.  
“Good.” Mr White added another finger and Jesse drew in a sharp breath through his teeth,  
“Do you have something to say?” Jesse knew exactly what he was supposed to say but he hesitated. Mr White’s tone quickly became agitated,  
“What do you have to say to me?” “  
I’m sorry,”  
“Good,” and Jesse could hear the smile in his voice. That single word should _not_ be going straight to his dick but it was. He was replaying it over and over in his head. He was good. He was finally good for some reason- even if it was this. Mr White twisted his fingers inside of Jesse, hitting that spot that somehow felt better than jacking off a million times at once. Jesse saw the way his mouth hung open and his eyelids almost-but-not-quite fluttered closed as the second and then the third finger slid in. It was confusing. On the surface, he was embarrassed, he was almost coming with some dude’s fingers up his ass and he was watching the whole thing - but somewhere in his brain the fact that he was watching himself get off - the fact that Mr White was getting him off and he could see all of it just made him want it more. He was practically coming from one fucking brush of his prostate (he looked it up after that first time) and he wished Mr White would _just fuck him already_.

“Excuse me?” Mr White challenged, making Jesse realise he must have muttered something out loud.  
“I-“  
“Is that what you want?” The fact that they were looking at each other through a mirror didn’t make the eye contact any less intense. Whenever they locked eyes Jesse felt like the tension between them could destroy a whole city.

He nodded.

The sound of a zipper was his answer.

It was way more painful than he thought it would be. The fingers were one thing, but the stretch combined with how slow Mr White was pushing into him just stung a million times worse. His knuckles turned white through the bruising from how tightly he was holding the sink and he was gritting his teeth so he didn’t let on just how much it hurt. Mr White stopped. Jesse realised not only was he sweating and panting like a motherfucker but Mr White had finally bottomed out. He squeezed his eyes shut. God, Mr White was so deep inside him it felt like his dick was in his throat. When Mr White pulled out, it started to feel different - like, good different. But when he pushed back in, he found that spot that he was somehow so talented at finding. That spot that felt so fucking amazing that it made Jesse’s knees start to shake from the pain and the pleasure mixing together. His elbows felt weak and he really didn’t think he could hold himself up for much longer. Sure enough, with the nex thrust, they buckled. Jesse’s upper body collapsed against the sink. The cool against his fever-hot skin was only a momentary relief because an arm soon wrapped around him, lifting him up so that Mr White’s chest was against his back. The other hand grabbed his thigh with a grip that would have hurt if he wasn’t in so much pain everywhere else.

“Look at yourself, Jesse,” He opened his eyes. Reflected in the mirror he saw himself, sweating and beat up and disgusting as hell. But he just looked so good like that. He couldn’t explain it. He looked so fucking dirty and it was perfect. Mr White started to pull out again and push back in, and his movements gradually got faster.

He was out of breath as he told Jesse, “Look at what you are. You’re dirty. You’re disrespectful. You’re injured. This. This is how you get treated when you don’t listen. You get rewarded when you do. You can acknowledge that you disrespected me, yes?”

Jesse was almost too far gone to nod but he managed it.

“So you get what you wanted - you get sex - but don’t forget what these cuts and bruises mean, what they represent. Be good and you’ll see how good I can make this feel for you,” Jesse watched his own face contort with each thrust and he was growing more and more aware of his own uneven breathing. He was trying so hard not to let go. He didn’t want to look like the virgin mess he had the first time they’d done anything like this. But, God, he craved that release so bad.

It would take just the smallest thing to push him over the edge and every time Mr White hit that spot inside of him he lost even more control. The hand on his thigh trailed upwards, Mr White’s fingers barely ghosting the head of his cock - but it was just enough that he couldn’t suppress it anymore.

Jesse let out a string of “ah ah ah”s that just got more desperate as he came. Even in the brain fog of his high he could feel Mr White still moving inside of him, fucking him through his orgasm. As he came down, he could barely stop himself from twisting away from the hypersensitivity that had suddenly taken over him.

Jesse gasped a little in pain as Mr White rested his hand on his ribcage and somehow that was enough to push him over the edge too. Jesse thought that was kinda fucked up - the way that him being in pain really did it for Mr White but at the same time, it really did it for him too. And as he looked at himself all bruised and fucked out in the mirror, he realised he would do it again, and he would fucking love it.

“Clean up,” Mr White instructed him and Jesse nodded, not trusting himself to speak anything but Kilgernon (or whatever that alien language Badger was always talking about was called)

But before he’d even finished wiping himself down, Mr White was gone again. He clearly didn’t like to hang around which Jesse respected, but also the cleaning was a bitch.

**Author's Note:**

> do americans call it a dot-to-dot? formatting this was a bitch because i started it in drafts and it deleted itself- no surprise there - so i moved it to google docs which doesn’t translate to ao3 very well AT ALL apparently. i have an idea of what to write next but please let me know if you liked this one and what you’d like to see/what you want me to elaborate on etc because i love feedback. sorry for the excessive use of italics and brackets but i’m not really sorry. also i love authors notes because it makes me feel like i have an actual audience lmao.


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